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yir. 







A PLEASANT HOUR IN THE NURSERY 


NURSERY STORIES AND RHYMES 


FOR THE HOME AND KINDERGARTEN 


Including “ Nurse Karen’s Norway Tales,” and “ All for Baby,” complete ; with 
a collection of short stories and rhymes 


BY 


EMILIE 'POULSSON 


Author of “Nursery Finger Plays” 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED BY L. J BRIDGMAN 
AND OTHERS 


BOSTON 

D. LOTHROP COMPANY 

1893 



14 1893') 


/ 





COPYKIGHT, 1893, 

BY 

D. Lothrop Company 


All rights reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


I. NURSE KAREN’S NORWAY TALES: 
The Three Goats 
The Breakfast Song 
The Nursery Blacksmith 
Chickens in Trouble 
Row, row! A-fishing Go 
The Wonderful Hay-making 
Baby’s Ride 

The Grateful Sparrow 
What the Cat Said 
The Story of Two Dogs 
Feeding the Birds 
A Christmas Riddle 


II. MY NEW DAY 

III. SANTA’S REPROOF 

IV. THE sp:asons 

V. ALL FOR BABY: 

The Story of Baby’s Shirt 
The Story of Baby’s Blanket 
The Story of Baby’s Cotton Gown 
The Story of Baby’s Shoes 
The Story of Baby’s Sash 
The Story of Baby’s Mug 
The Story of Baby’s Plate 
The Story of Baby’s Bread 
The Story of Baby’s Play-things 
The Story of Baby’s Picture-book 
The Story of Baby’s Crib 
The Story of Baby’s Pillow 

VI. ELSA’S DOLLY 

VII. THE ENDLESS STORY 

VIII. THE EMPTY BIRD-HOUSE 

IX. A WISE FELLOW 

X. A LITTLE BOY’S JOKE 




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THE THREE GOATS. 



THE THREE GOATS. 


“ Now you shall hear ! ” said 
Nurse Karen one day to Bobby 
and Sue and the Baby. “ Now 
you shall hear the story of 
‘The Three Goats.’ 

“ There was once a Boy who 
had three Goats. One night, 
when he went to meet them, the 
frisky things leaped into a tur- 
nip field and he could not get 
them out. Then the Boy sat 
down on the hillside and cried. 

“As he sat there a Hare 
came along. ‘ Why do you 
cry ?’ asked the Hare. 

“‘I cry because I can’t get 


the Goats out of the field,’ 
answered the Boy. 

‘“77/ do it,’ said the Hare. 
So he tried, but the Goats 
would not come. Then the 
Hare, too, sat down and cried. 

“Along came a Fox. 

“ ‘ Why do you cry ? ’ asked 
the Fox. 

“ ‘ I am crying because the 
Boy cries,’ said the Hare; ‘ and 
the Boy is crying because he 
cannot get the Goats out of 
the turnip field.’ 

“‘/’// do it,’ said the Fox. 

“ So the Fox tried^ but the 


THE THREE GOATS. 


Goats would not come. Then 
the Fox also sat down and cried. 

“ Soon after, a Wolf came 
along. ‘ Why do you cry ? ’ 
asked the W olf. T am crying 
because the Hare cries,’ said 
the Fox; ‘and the Hare cries 
because the Boy cries ; and 
the Boy cries because he can’t 
get the Goats out of the turnip 
field.’ ‘/’// do it!’ said the 
Wolf. He tried; but the 
Goats would not leave the field. 


Wolf. ‘I am crying because 
the Fox cries; and the Fox 
cries because the Hare cries ; 
and the Hare cries because the 
Boy cries ; and the Boy cries 
because he can’t get the Goats 
out of the turnip field.’ 

“‘/’// do it!’ said the Bee. 

“Then the big Animals and 
the Boy all stopped crying a 
moment to laugh at the tiny 
Bee. He do it, indeed, when 
they could not! But the tiny 



So he sat down beside the 
others and began to cry too. 

“ After a little, a Bee flew 
over the hill and saw them all 
sitting there crying. ‘ Why do 
you cry?’ said the Bee to the 


Bee flew away into the turnip 
field and lit upon one of the 
Goats and said, 

“ ‘ Buz-z-z-z-z ! ’ 

“ And out ran the Goats, 
everyone!” said Nurse Karen. 


THE BREAKFAST SONG. 



THE BREAKFAST SONG. 


{Nurse Karen s Norway Tales.) 


“ Don’t you know a song for 
breakfast time, Nurse Karen?” 
asked Sue one morning, as she 
and the Baby sat at the little 
nursery table. 


“ Ah, yes ! ” she said. “In 
my country we have a little song 
about the milk. ' Are you all 
ready to eat this nice porridge ? 
Well, then, now you shall hear : 



Nurse Karen smiled. She 
vvas just bringing in the pitcher 
of milk. 


At five o’clock he milks the 
cow. 

The busy farmer’s man. 


THE BREAKFAST SONG. 


At six o’clock he strains the 
milk 

And pours it in the can. 


feet. And when she sang 
the last verse she poured some 
more milk into Baby’s cup. 



At seven o’clock the milk- 
man’s horse 

Must go to town — ^‘get up!’ 
At eight o’clock Nurse Karen 
pours 

The milk in Baby’s cup.” 

When Nurse Karen ^ sang 
about the milkman’s horse she 
made a great tramping with her 


“ Oh! do sing it again,” said 
Sue. So Nurse Karen sang 
it again, and when she came to 
the last verse this time Sue’s 
cup was empty ; so N urse 
Karen sang : 

“ At eight o’clock Nurse Karen 
pours 

The milk in Susie s cup.” 



THE NURSERY BLACKSMITH. 


THE NURSERY BLACKSMITH. 


“ Bitty, patty, polt. 

Shoe the wild colt ; 

H ere a nail, and there a nail. 
Bitty, patty, polt.” 

“ See how Baby laughs, 
Nurse, when I play this ! ” 
said Bobby, as he patted the 
baby’s pink feet while Nurse 
Karen was opening the little 
crib. “ It’s out of my Mother 
Goose book, and mamma used 
to play it with me when I was 
little. Do the children have a 
Mother Goose book in Nor- 
way, Nurse Karen ?” 

“ N ot like yours,” said N urse 
Karen ; “ but we have a play 
something like that one.” 

“ Oh ! show us ! Do show 
us ! ” said Sue and Bobby. 

So Nurse Karen took Baby 


in her lap and patted the soles 
of her feet in time to the music 
as she sang : 

“ Shoe Dobbin ! shoe Dobbin! 

With hammer and tongs; 
Such shoeing as this 

To the blacksmith belongs. 

“Shoe Dobbin! shoe Dobbin! 

The nails must be tight. 

For we’ve a long journey 
To travel to-night.” 

“There!” tossing Baby into 
the crib. “ Now go your long 
journey through Dreamland, lit- 
tle dear. Sue and Bobby will 
be on the way soon,” she said. 

“ And play we are little, and 
‘ Shoe Dobbin ’ ,for us before 
we go, will you. Nurse ? ” 


THE NURSERY BLACKSMITH. 



“ We’ll play that undressing 
is having the harness taken off. 
Bobby is a wonderful trick 
pony who can unharness him- 
self,” said Nurse; “but Sue is 
not trained yet, so I will attend 
to her; after that I will be the 
blacksmith and shoe you both.” 


being shod was a jolly process. 

Then Nurse Karen went to 
Bobby’s bed, where he lay 
waving his feet in the air. 

“ The trick pony’s shoes must 






in; 


Sue was soon ready, and had 
thrust her feet out from be- 
tween the blankets before 
Nurse had time to say, “ Now 
you shall hear;” and Sue’s 
squeals of delight showed that 


be very firm,” said Nurse; sing- 
ing the little rhyme again ; she 
patted and thumped Bobby’s 
sturdy feet, and gave each toe 
a sharp little tweak, as if try- 
ing them to see if they were 
tight. Oh! she was a merry 
blacksmith, I can tell you ! 


f 



THE EVENING PRAYER 






CHICKENS IN TROUBLE. 


CHICKENS IN TROUBLE. 



“ O mother, mother ! I’m so 
cold ! ” 

One little chicken grumbled. 

“ And, mother!” cried a second 
chick, 

‘‘Against a stone I’ve stum- 
bled.” 

“ And oh ! I am so sleepy 
now,” 

Another chick was moan- 
ing ; 


While chicken fourth, of tired 
wings. 

Kept up a constant groaning. 

“ And, mother ! I have such 
a pain ! ” 

Peeped out the chicken 
baby ; 

“ That yellow meal did taste 
so good. 

I’ve eaten too much, may be.” 


And there’s a black, black 
cloud up there,” 

Cried all in fear and wonder; 



CHICKENS IN TROUBLE. 



“ O mother dear, do spread 
• your wings 

And let us all creep under.” 


“ There, there, my little dears, 
come here; 

Your cries are quite distress- 
ing,” 

The mother called, and spread 
her wings 

For comfort and caressing. 

And soon beneath her feathers 
warm. 

The little chicks were hud- 
dled; 


“ I know what ailed you all,” 
she said, 

“You wanted to be cuddled.” 

And as they nestled cosily 

And hushed their weak com- 
plaining. 

She told them that the black, 
black cloud 

Was quite too small for 
raining. 



And one by one they all were 
soothed. 

And out again went straying. 
Until five happy little chicks 
Were in the farmyard play 
ing. 




ROW, ROW! A-FISHING GO, 



SUE AND BOBI’.Y CAl^H FISH. 


ROW, ROW! A-FISHING GO. 


“What are you singing, 
Nurse Karen ?” asked Bobby, 
as he came into the nursery 
where’ she sat mending and 
singing as she worked. Baby 
had just been put into the crib 
for a nap. 

“It is only a little song 
we sing to sleepy children in 


my own country,” said Nurse 
Karen. “ Shall I sing it 
to you ? ” 

“Yes, please, Nursie. In 
the queer words first, and then 
tell what it means.” 

Nurse Karen smiled, and 
sang without delay, first in the 
“ queer words,” as the children 


ROW, ROW! A-FISHING GO. 


called her own language, and 
then in words they could under- 
stand : 

“ Row, row ! A-fishing go ! 
How many fishes, I pray, can 
you show ? ” 

“ One for the father. 

And one for the mother. 
One for the sister. 

And one for the brother ; 
One little fish is still left, you 
see. 

And that one the fisherman’s 
share shall be.” 

The children were pleased 
with the song, and Bobby im- 
mediately said : 

“Let’s play it. Sue! I’ll 


go fishing, and you can ask me 
how many fish I caught.” 

“ O, no, Bobby ! I want 
to go in the boat with you and 
help you row.” 

“And you can come to me 
with your fish, Bobby,” said 
Nurse Karen. 

So Sue and Bobby sat down 
on the floor and pretended to 
row and catch fish, and then to 
row home again. 

They had pieces of paper for 
fishes. 

The first time Bobby only 
caught four, so there was no 
little fish for the fisherman’s 
share ; but you may be sure he 
took care to have five fishes 
every time after that. 


T^exper* 


THE WONDERFUL HAY-MAKING. 


THE WONDERFUL HAY-MAKING. 


“ Oh ! we Ve had such fun 
this afternoon, Nurse Karen,” 
said Bobby. 

“So?” said Nurse Karen. 
“ And what did you play ? ” 

“We didn’t play ; we worked. 
Sue and I, just like the men. 
We worked in the hayfield, and 
then rode into the barn on top 
of the big load of hay.” 

“In my country,” said Nurse 
Karen, “ we have a song about 
a wonderful hay-making.” 


“Oh! do you, Nursie ? And 
will you sing it for us ? Please 
do ! ” And Bobby and Sue 
sat down close at Nurse Ka- 
ren’s side. 

And Nurse Karen said, 
“ Yes, yes, good children ; now 
you shall hear about the won- 
derful hay-making. 

(( 


And still as he mowed, he was 
chattering so. 




The squirrel went out in the 
meadow to mow, 

So merry and blithe. 

With his glittering scythe ; 

The R»av€n !§ 




LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE NURSERY. 



THE WONDERFUL HAY-MAKING. 


Oh ! the squirrel went out in 
the meadow to mow. 

“ The raven went with him to 
rake up the hay, 

The .rake in his claw ; 


The crow dragged the cart 
And the cat did her part ; 

F or she drove the hay-cart, and 
said, ‘‘ Mew, mew, mew ! ’ 
Oh ! the crow and the cat to 
the meadow went, too. 



Such a sight you ne’er saw ! 

And still as he raked he was 
croaking away. 

Oh ! the raven went with him 
to rake up the hay. 

‘‘The crow and the cat to the 
meadow went, too, 


“The children went out in the 
meadow to see. 

But squirrel was done. 

And the raven was gone. 

The crow and the pussy cat, 
where could they be ? 

Oh ! the children went out in 
the meadow to see.” 


BABY’S RIDE. 


BABY’S 

Bobby and Sue were going 
to a picnic with their papa and 
mamma. They had been chat- 
ting about it in great glee all 
the time they were being 
dressed to go ; but Baby had 
been happy enough with her 
playthings, paying no attention 
to what was said, until Sue 
called out “ There are the 
horses ! Hurry, Bobby ! ” 

Then indeed did Baby un- 
derstand that something de- 
lightful was in prospect. 

She scrambled to her feet 
and trotted towards the nursery 
door, calling out “Wide! 
wide ! ” which of course meant 
“ Ride ! ride ! ” 

But poor Baby ! she was 
not to go this time ; and I 
must confess that she cried 


RIDE. 

loudly after the carriage drove 
away, till Nurse Karen said, 
“ Who will ride to the miller’s 
house ? ” and took Baby upon 
her knee. 

Baby forgot her disappoint- 
ment in an instant, for “ Riding 
to the miller’s house ” was her 
favorite play. 

T rot ! trot ! trot ! Away 
they went at a fine pace, while 
Nurse Karen sang: 

“ Ride, and ride away 
Till we reach the miller’s house; 

No one is at home. 

But a morsel of a mouse. 

“ The miller grinds the corn 
For Bobby and for Sue; 

The rooster flaps his wings. 
Singing ‘Cock-a-doodle do!’ ” 


BABY'S RIDE. 



RIDING TO THE MILLEr’s HOUSE. 


You may Imagine that the 
end of the song was jolly, for 
Nurse Karen flapped her arms 


aeainst her sides and crowed 
as much like a real rooster as 
she could. Baby enjoyed it. 



THE GRATEFUL SPARROW. 



IN THE STALL. 


THE GRATEFUL SPARROW. 


Bobby had had the earache. 
But although the pain had 
stopped he had to lie still lest 
it should begin again ; so it 
was a good time for a story. 

“ Now you shall hear,” said 
Nurse Karen, putting up her 
forefinger, “ now you shall 
hear how kind two friends were 


to each other, though one was 
big and the other little. 

“ The big horse was standing 
quietly in his stall, resting, and 
thinking of going to sleep, 
when suddenly he heard a whirr 
of wings, and the next moment 
a tiny sparrow perched on the 
ed^e of his mano^er. 

o o 


THE GRATEFUL SPARROW. 


“ ‘ Chee ! chee ! How hungry 
I am ! ’ chirped the wee thing. 
‘ Your manger is so full, Dob- 
bin dear, won’t you let me 
have some of your oats ? Such 
a little will do for me! Just 
one little grain or two ; and 
there will be plenty left for 
you — more than you can eat.’ 
And the sparrow hovered over 
the tempting oats, looking up 
coaxingly at the big horse. 

“ ‘ Take all you wish, little 
bird,’ said Dobbin kindly. 
We may both feast, and there 
will still be some left.’ 

“ Then the two friends ate 
and ate of the delicious oats 
till they both were satisfied. 

“ By and by the summer came. 
Even in the dim stable it was 
very hot, and oh ! how trouble- 


some the flies were. Poor 
Dobbin had no rest from their 
stinging and biting. But one 
day he heard a whirr of wings, 
and the next moment his little 
friend Sparrow perched on the 
edge of his manger. 

“ ‘ I do not come begging 
this time,’ she chirped. ‘ Chee ! 
chee! No, indeed. I can 
get my own living in the sum- 
mer time. But now I will 
show what I can do for you.’ 

“ Then you should have seen 
how the sparrow darted about 
and how she snapped at the 
flies. And every day through 
the whole summer the sparrow 
came and caught the torment- 
ing flies so that they could not 
hurt and tease Dobbin any 
more.” 


WHAT THE CAT SAID. 


G-Bobby 



WHAT THE CAT SAID. 


Bobby and Sue and the 
Baby had had their tea, and it 
was now almost bedtime. 

“ What shall we play, 
Bobby ? ” asked Sue. 

Bobby had thrown himself 
flat on the floor, and lay there 
lazily stretched out. 

“ I don’t feel like playing,” 
said he. “ It’s warm, and I’ve 
just had my tea, and I feel 
lazy and sleepy.” 


“ Aha ! ” said Nurse Karen, 
“ that is just what the cat 
said.” 

“ What cat ? ” and “ Oh ! a 
story, a story ! ” said Bobby 
and Sue together. 

“ Not much of'a story,” said 
Karen ; “ but a funny little 

rhyme written by a great man. 
Off with your clothes, now, 
and I will tell you about the 
cat as soon as you are in bed.” 


WHAT THE CAT SAID. 


In a very little while the 

Four big bits of fish 

children were ready. 

Cut up on a dish. 

“ Now you shall hear,” 

I found on the cook’s pantry 

said Nurse Karen: 

shelf ; 

The sun in the west 

Was sinking to rest. 


SAC®) . _ 

jThe l^k-zy old cat. 




When the lazy old cat, 
Half-asleep on the mat, 
Began thus to talk to herself. 

“ Two fat tender mice. 

And cream sweet and nice. 


These made me a very good 
meal. 

Now, not a bit hungry I feel ; 
But lazy and sleepy — and 
very well fed, 

The cat said.” 


THE STORY OF THE TWO DOGS. 


THE STORY OF 

Bobby and Sue had been in 
the house all day on account 
of the rain. They had had all 
the old toys down from the top 
shelf of the toy closet, and had 
played everything they could 
think of, and were wondering 



what to do next when Nurse 
Karen came into the nursery 
with Baby. 

“ Oh ! tell us something to 
play, Nursie,” said Sue; or 


THE TWO DOGS. 

couldn’t you play with us a 
little while ? ” 

“ This is my busy time, 
you know, children,” answered 
Nurse Karen. “ I must get 
all things ready for the night 
now. 

“ But I can sing and work, 
and we can play ‘ The Two 
Dogs,’ if you wish. Baby 
shall ride on the rocking horse, 
and Sue shall be the lit- 
tle dog, and Bobby the big 
dog.” 

“ O, goody ! ” said Bobby ; 
“ and what shall we do ? ” 

“ You must be chained, and 
then do just as the song tells 
you.” 

When they were all ready 
— Baby on the horse and 
Bobby and Sue chained by 


THE STORY OF THE TWO DOGS. 


the window seat — N urse 

Karen sang': 

“ I see a big horse and a child 
is astride, 

And where, and oh . 
where shall the 
little one ride ? 

“Away to the palace 
he gallops afar. 

And out to the park 
where the royal 
dogs are. 

“ There under a bench, gnaw- 
ing hard at their chain. 

They bark and they growl and 
then both bark again. 

“ The little dog barks in a fine 
little voice. 


‘ Bow-wow-wow ! ’ 

The bigger dog barks with a 
very loud noise, 

‘ Bow, wow, wow ! ’ ” 


Sue’s “fine little voice” was, 
such a funny little squeak, that 
Nurse Karen could scarcely 
finish the song for laughing; 
while Bobby’s “ Bow, wow, 
wow ! ” was as noisy and gruff 
as any one could wish to hear. 




FEEDING THE BIRDS. 


FEEDING THE BIRDS. 


Sue stood at the nursery 
window watching the falling 
snowflakes. Papa had said 
there was to be a big snow- 
storm. 

“ Karen, everything is white 
now, and the snow is getting 
so deep ! Do come and see ! 
And, O, Karen ! there are 
some birds, too.” 

“So?” said Nurse Karen, 
as she went to the window. 
“ Then you have the little win- 
ter birds in America ? We 
love them much in Norway, 
and our little children are very 
kind to them.” 

“What do the children do.?” 
asked Sue. 

“That shall you hear in a 
story,” said Nurse Karen, tak- 
ing Sue in her lap. 


“It was a bitterly cold win- 
ter, and everything was covered 
with snow and ice. A little 
girl named Inga, used every 
day to get bread and scatter 
crumbs over the snow for the 
poor hungry birds. They 
would fly down in great flocks 
all about her. Inga’s hands 
nearly froze as she stood there 
in the icy wind ; but she was 
so happy that she never thought 
of the cold. 

“ Inga’s father and mother 
were glad to see that their little 
daughter was so kind and 
thoughtful for the birds, but 
her father said, ‘ Why do you 
do that, Inga ? ’ 

“‘ Oh ! ’ said Inga, ‘ there is 
so much snow that the birds 
can find nothing to eat.’ 


FEEDING THE BIRDS. 



“ ‘ Yes ; but you cannot pos- 
sibly feed them all,’ said her 
father. 

“ Little Inga smiled and 
said: ‘No; I can’t feed them 
all ; but there are ^ 

many other little chil- ^ ^ ^ 

dren all over the world 
who will like to feed 
them. And so, father, 
if I give crumbs to 
the birdies here, and 
other children give 
crumbs in other 
places, all the dear 
little birds will be fed, 
won’t they, father ? ’ 

“ And that is the 
whole of the story, ^ 

I believe,”, concluded Nurse i 
Karen. ! 

Sue looked up into her face, 
and then ran towards the win- 
dow. 

“ O, Nursie!” said she, 

“ the birds are here yet. May 


I have some bread to give 
them ? ” 

After that Sue used often 


HELPING INGA FEED THE BIRDS. 

\ 

to scatter crumbs on the snow, 
and liked to call it helping Inga 
feed the birds. 


A CHRISTMAS RIDDLE. 


A CHRISTMAS RIDDLE. 


Listen, listen, children dear. 
Now a riddle you shall hear. 



As you hear it ponder well. 
See who can the answer tell. 

There’s a tree so dear to all. 
Sometimes large and some- 
times small. 

Forests may be dull and drear, 
This tree is a-bloom with 
cheer. 


Fresh and green its branches 
show 

Though the world be white 
with snow. 

Birdies find a shelter warm 

’Mong its boughs from wintry 
storm. 

Trunk it has, but has no roots, 

Yet it bears most wondrous 
fruits. 



Some delicious are and sweet ; 
Some no one could ever eat. 


A CHRISTMAS RIDDLE. 



Oh ! what joy and mirth 
abound 

Where this wondrous tree is 
found. 


’Round it pretty songs are sung, 
’Tis a joy to old and young. 

’Tis the children’s special tree; 
Can you tell its name to me ? 



/ 




•f 


MY NEW DAY.— I WOULD BE A GENTLEMAN. 


MY NEW DAY. 

To-day has come: and I 
In this new day will try 
To do with earnest mind 
Whatever work I find. 

In all my work and play 
I’ll try my best to-day 
In gentleness to speak, 
b"or others’ joy to seek. 

And all the whole day long 
I’ll try with purpose strong, 
To keep my spirit true, 

And deeds of love to do. 


I WOULD BE A GENTLEMAN. 

Oh! I would be a gentleman. 

One without alloy ; 

And the way, they say. 

Is to be each day 
A gentlemanly boy. 




SANTA’S REPROOF. 



SANTA’S REPROOF. 

(Before Christmas.) 

‘‘Hurrah! hurrah! for Christmas time,” 
said merry little Jack. 

“I think old Santa Claus will soon 
begin to fill his pack. 

I hope he’ll bring a lot of things, espe- 
cially for me, 

And fill my stockings to the top as full 
as full can be. 

But then, my stockings don’t hold much; they’re too small, 
I declare! 

A giant’s stocking would be grand. I wish I had a pair. 

Now Jimmy Jenkins has a plan to get a good supply: 

He hangs his grandma’s stockings up. But I’m afraid to try, 



SANTA’S REPROOF. 


For Santa might forget, you see, with so much on his mind. 
And leave a lot of grandma’s things which I should hate 
to find. 

Perhaps a case for spectacles, a cap and darning ball, 

A pincushion, a neckerchief, a 
little shoulder shawl. 

O, yes ! I know the kind of 
things that grandma gets 
each year ; 

And though they suit her very 
well, they’d make a boy 
feel queer.” 

At last, one day. Jack said with 
glee, “I have a plan that 
suits: 

On Christmas Eve I’ll hang up both my new long rubber 
boots.” 

(Christmas Ere.) 

Well ! Christmas Eve came on apace; and over all the land 
The children hung their stockings up. And Jack, as he had 
planned. 

Hung up his great long rubber boots; then went away to bed 
With only selfish, greedy thoughts still in his little head. 

And when the children all had gone to slumberland away, 
Then merrily did Santa Claus jump in his loaded sleigh. 



SANTA’S REPROOF. 



“ Get up, my little reindeer, now! Bestir your tiny hoofs ! 

Now gallop at your swiftest pace till we’re among the roofs.” 

A bound, a whizz, a whirr ! and then beside a chimney top. 

In less time than it takes to wink, these knowing reindeer stop; 

For they are shod with fairy 
shoes and run at fairies’ pace. 
Else how could Santa in one 
night leave gifts at every 
place ? 

Thus speeding on, the rein- 
deer reached the roof 
that sheltered Jack, 
And Santa Claus, with 
knowing look, drew 
something from his 
pack. 

A cloud came o’er his jolly face, so ruddy and so glad. 

‘‘This is the kind of work,” he sighed, “that makes a body 
sad. 

But still, I really must try my little friend to cure. 

For greediness is such a fault ! and one I can t endure. 

I know it’s not quite delicate — the way that I have planned — 
But ’tis a way the little chap will surely understand. 

And though I give him all the toys I can from out my pack, 
He’ll know I see his greediness. Poor, foolish little Jack!” 
Then down into the chimney — pop! and up and out — and then 
The reindeer, Santa Claus and all were on their way again. 


SANTA’S REPROOF. 


{Christmas Morning.) 

Ho, ho ! the merry Christmas shouts, the racket and the noise 
As all the stockings are unpacked by eager girls and boys. 
Jack tumbled out of bed in haste and to the chimney ran 
To see the splendid lot of toys he’d gained by his new plan. 
Right eagerly he plunged his hand into the boot with glee, 



And pulled out — never would you guess! — a great big paste- 
board P. 

“What’s that for?^” wondered little Jack; “well. I’ll see by 
and by ; ” 

And then his hand brought from the boot a great big paste- 
board I. » 

“Perhaps it’s some new game!” said Jack, as puzzled as 
could be,; 

“I’ll try again!” and next he got a great big pasteboard G. 

The letters, sprawled upon the floor, too plainly spelled a 
word — 

The strangest gift from Santa Claus of which I ever heard! 


SANTA’S REPROOF. 


Jack looked and looked; then all at once it came into his 
mind 

Just why old Santa Claus had left these letters three behind. 

So Jackie sadly turned away, repentant and ashamed; 

But, looking toward his other boot, he suddenly exclaimed : 

“Why! that boot’s full of toys and things! — oh, Santa Claus, 
you dear ! 

To give me something, after all, besides those letters queer!” 

And now I’ve told my Christmas tale and kept no sad truth 
back. 

That children may a warning take from greedy little Jack, 

And hang their stockings with content however small they be. 

That Santa never more may need to use those letters three. 



THE SEASONS. 


January, February, 
Winter months 
are they ; 

Then comes on the 
springtime — 
March, April, May. 


June, July and Au- 
gust, 

Thus the summer 
speeds ; 

Next we greet the au- 
tumn — 

Gay September 
leads. 







October and Novem- 
ber 

Follow in her 
train ; 

Then with white 
December 
W inter comes 
again. 



ALL FOR BABY 



i 


THE STORY OF BABY S SHIRT. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S SHIRT. 



In a field the flaxplant grew, 
Decked with blossoms brightly 
blue ; 

And the flax all summer long 
Laid its fibres straight and 
strong. 

By and by the reapers there 
Gathered all the flax with care ; 
And the spinner said with glee, 
“ Here at last is work for me.” 

Then the spinning-wheel went 
round 

With a busy whirring sound, 
Changing, changing as it sped 
All the flax to linen thread. 

Then the weaver said with 
glee, 

“ Here at last is work for me; 
All this thread I will combine 
Into linen soft and fine.” 



THE STORY OF BABy’s SHIRT. 



In his loom the threads he 
placed, 

Tossed the shuttle through in 
haste, 

Treading too with busy feet. 

Till the web was all complete. 

Then the merchant with de- 
light 

Bought the linen fine and 
white. 

In his shop the web unrolled. 

And the linen soon was sold. 

Some the Baby’s mother 
bought. 

Then with tender loving 
thought 

Shaped the Baby’s shirt so 
small. 

Set with love the stitches all. 

So the little shirt is here 

Ready for the Baby dear; 

But of all its story true 

Not a thing the Baby knew! 



THE STORY OF BABY S BLANKET. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S BLANKET. 



Once a. little Baby, 

On a sunny day, 

Out among the daisies 
Took his happy way. 
Little lambs were frisking 
In the fields so green. 
While the fleecy mothers 
All at rest were seen. 


For a while the Baby 
Played and played and 
played ; 

Then he sat and rested 
In the pleasant shade. 
Soon a Sheep came near him. 
Growing very bold. 

And this wondrous story 
T o the Baby told : 




THE STORY OF BABY S BLANKET. 




Baby*s little blanket, 

Socks and worsted ball, 
Winter cap and mittens. 

And his flannels all. 

And his pretty afghan 
Warm and soft and fine, 
Once as wool were growing 
On this back of mine ! 


‘‘ And the soft bed blankets. 
For his cosey sleep. 

These were also given 
By his friends, the sheep.” 
Such the wondrous story 
That the Baby heard : 
Did he understand it r 
Not a single word! 





THK LITTLE STRANGER. 



THE STORY OF BABY S COTTON GOWN. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S COTTON GOWN. 




Sing ho ! for the planter 
Who planted the cotton, 
Sing ho ! for the sunny fields 
Where it did grow ! 


Sing ho ! for the workers 
Who gathered the treasure 
From ajl the big buds 

As they burst with its snow! 


Sing ho ! the good spinner 
Whose busy wheel turning 
Then spun out the cotton 
To thiead strong and thin 



THE STORY OF BABy’s COTTON GOWN. 



Sing ho ! for the weaver 
Who wove them together 
Within his great loom — 
Oh ! the clatter and din ! 

Sing ho ! for the merchant 
Who sold the new cotton 
To many a mother 
In city and town. 

Sing ho ! for the mothers 
And babies together, 

For baby is dressed 
In a new cotton gown. 




THE STORY OF BABY S SHOES. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S SHOES. 




’Mong the mountains far away, 
Nibbling, browsing all the day. 
Lived a kid with fine soft 
skin — 

Good for shoes for Babykin. 


So the farmer, first, with speed 
Sent the kid for Baby’s need ; 
Then the tanner tanned the 
skin 

For the sake of Babykin. 

Clip ! the cobbler’s shears did 

Clip ! clip ! clip ! round top 
to toe; 




THE STORY OF BABY S SHOES. 



So he cut the leather thin 
Shaping shoes for Babykin. 

Tap! tap ! tap! upon the last; 
Stitch and stitch so strong and 
fast ; 

Thus the cobbler made the skin 
Into shoes for Babykin. 

And when Baby’s toes peeped 
through 

Dainty socks of pink and blue, 
Kid shoes, shiny, soft and thin. 
Mamma bought for Babykin. 




THE STORY OF BABy’s SASH. 


THE STORY OF BABTS SASH. 



Grandmamma has brought a 
gift 

Beautiful as may be — 

Such a dainty silken sash ! 

We must thank her, Baby. 


“No,” said Grandmamma, “for I 
From the Merchant bought it.” 
“ Thank me not,” the Mer- 
chant said, 

“’Twas the Weaver brought it.” 


“ Thanks to me the Weaver 
cried, 

“ I can scarce believe it ! 

’Twas the Dyer gave the silk. 
And / did but weave it.” 


To the Dyer, then, we’ll go 
Many thanks bestowing: 



THE STORY OF BABy’s SASH. 



“ For the sash! Why, I gave 
naught 

But its colors glowing.” 

“ Nor to me your thanks be- 
long,” 

Quickly said the Spinner ; 

“ But I think I know the one 
Who should be their winner. 

“ All the silken thread so fine — 
Listen now ! — I found it 
In a Silkworm’s small cocoon, 
And from there unwound it ! ” 

H ere, then, was the sash begun ; 
So, though strange it may be, 
’Twas the Silkworm, after all. 
Gave the sash to Baby. 





THE STORY OF BABY S MUG. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S MUG. 




Silver comes to Baby soon — 
Silver mug and silver spoon : 
Sing a song of silver ! 

With a mountain first begin, 


Sing the mines as dark as 
night, 

Sing the miner’s little light : 
Sing a song of silver! 

Digging, digging, day by day. 
So the miner works away : 
Sing a song of silver ! 



Where the silver hides within ; 

1 

I 

Sing a song of silver ! 

j 

Dull and rough the rocks ap- 


pear ; 


Who would think a treasure 


here ? 


Sing a song of silver ! 



THE STORY OF BABy’s MUG. 



llL¥EFi¥Ai 

Mve^ 

SPECIALTY 

nvQoJSbH 


CESDOOX' 



Swinging, from the mines be- 
low, 

Up the loaded baskets go: 
Sing a song of silver ! 


Sing the fire’s flash and roar. 
Silver gleams in melting ore: 
Sing a song of silver! 


Silver sleeping in the mould. 
And the rest is quickly told : 
Sing a song of silver! 

Shapen is the silver soon — 
Silver mug or silver spoon: 
Sing a song of silver! 





THE STORY OF BABY S PLATE. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S PLATE. 



Near and far away 

1 1 


The Potter sought for clay 

Till the finest he had found, 

(-cSQic^ 

i 

And this finest, finer ground. 




Then, with careful hand, 


Measured marl and sand; 

1 

# 

Softened all with water, then 
Mixed and ground, and ground 

1 'rw 

1 

again. 

1 


Ready then, the clay 



Tough and plastic lay. 


0 

1 Till beside his wheel he stood 


Where he shaped it as he 




f 

would. 


m 



9 

Swift his wheel did turn, 
Shaping vase or urn ; 



Toiled the Potter, early, late. 


D 

Shaping pitcher, cup or plate. 


If 



m 

When they all were done. 

\JrM' f 1 


Then he dried each one; 



THE STORY OF BABY S PLATE. 



Packed in ovens all, to bake — 
Harder still the clay to make. 


Harder grew the clay, 
While, both night and day. 
Faithful men the fires fed. 
Kept them glowing fiercely red. 


When the clay had grown 
Firm and hard as stone, 
’Neath the Potters hand there 
grew 

Other wonders strange and 
new. 

Dipped in glazing white 
Soon the ware shone bright! 
Decked with patterns gilt and 
gay 

One could scarcely think it 
clay! 

Furnace heat again 
Hardened all, and then 
Finished was the labor great — 
There was Baby’s China Plate! 











THE STORY OF BABY S BREAD. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S BREAD. 



{The mother speaks') 

Help, Neighbors, help! 

For our bread, good Neighbors, 
Please to lend your labors — 
Help, Neighbors, help ! 


Drive, Plowman, driv^ ! 
Keep the plowshare steady. 
Make the wheat field ready — 
Drive, Plowman, drive ! 


Speed, Farmer, speed! 
Sow the wheat and tend it. 
To the Miller send it — 
Speed, Farmer, speed! 


Grind, Miller, grind! 

By the mill-stream’s power 
Grind the wheat to flour — 
Grind, Miller, grind! 



THE STORY OF BABy’s BREAD. 




{The neighbors speak}^ 

See, Mother, see ! 

By our labors granted, 

Here’s the bread you wanted — 
See, Mother, see ! 


{The mother speaks again) 

Thanks, Neighbors, thanks ! 
Baby, too, un-knowing. 

Many thanks is owing — 
Thanks, Neighbors, thanks! 




Haste, Baker, haste! 

Here’s the flour — take it. 

Sift and mix and bake it — 



In 



Haste, Baker, haste! 


1 1 






^ ^ It 


THE STORY OF BABY S PLAY-THINGS. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S PLAY-THINGS. 


5 

■h 


Said the Ivory Ring : 

“ I can tell a strange thing 
That perhaps you don’t know; 
But — a long time ago — 

In an Elephant’s tusk did this 
ivory grow.” 


Said the new Noah’s Ark 
With its animals : “ Hark ! 

If your wooden toys please, 
You must thank the good 
T rees, 

For they give all the wood to 
make such things as these.” 


Said the big Rubber Ball : 

“ Yes, and that is not all! 

For a Tree far away 
Gave its sap — so they say — 
To make soft rubber toys for 
the wee Babies’ play.” 



THE STORY OF BABy’s PLAY-THINGS. 



Said the little Tin Pail : 

“And now I’ll tell a tale! 
’Twas the Miner who found 
Me at first underground, 

And the Tinsmith who made 
me so shiny and round.” 



Said the pretty pink Shell ; 

“ Many things I could tell 
Of the wonderful Sea 
Where my home used to be, 
And the queer little creature 
who once lived in me ! ” 


Baby dear, it is true ! 

All mankind works for you ; 
And the Creatures and Trees, 
And the Earth and the Seas, 
One and all give up something 
the Baby to please. 




THE STORY OF BABy’s PICTURE-BOOK. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S PICTURE-BOOK. 




One day I went strolling — 
And what did I see ? 

A man who was busy 
As busy could be. 


They called him an Artist, 
And all that he saw 
He could with his pencil 
Most cunningly draw. 


Cats, kittens and doggies. 
Birds, butterflies, bees, 

H ens, chickens and horses. 
And flowers and trees. 



THE STORY OF BABY S PICTURE-BOOK. 


-fr'. 



And houses and churches, 
And sun, moon and stars. 
And sailboats and steamships, 
.And engines and cars. 


And people and children, 
At work and at play. 
This Artist could draw 
In a wonderful way ! 


And why was he working 
From morning till night? 
Why, just to make pictures 
For Baby’s delight! 




THE STORY OF BABy’s CRIB. 


THE STORY OF BABY’S CRIB. 



There once was a Tree, Baby 

dear, |l^ 

And it grew and grew 

Till the sky so blue 

Seemed right at its top, Baby 


dear. i 


A Man brought an ax. Baby ^ 


dear, I 

1^5^ 

s(r” 

And he chopped and ^ 


chopped H 


Till the branches dropped 3 

And crash! fell the tree. Baby c| 

dear. 


Away to the mill. Baby dear, J 


Did the Tree go then, [ 

And the busy Men jli 

Sawed it up into boards. Baby 
dear. 



THE STORY OF BABY S CRIB. 


The Carpenter worked, Baby 
dear, 

With a saw again. 

And his hammer and plane. 
And made you a Crib, Baby 
dear. 


Papa brought it home. Baby 
dear ; 

And so, from the Tree 
There has come, you see. 
Your own little Crib, Baby 
dear! 



THE STORY OF BABY S PILLOW. 


THE STORY OF BABY^S PILLOW. 

These are the Eggs that were 
put in a nest; 

These are the Goslings in yel- 
low down drest. 


This is the Farm-yard where, 
living in peace, 

All the young Goslings grew 
up to be Geese. 

H ere’s the Goose-family wad- 
dling about — 

In a procession they always 
walk out. 


This is the Farmer who said, 
“ Every Goose 

Now has some feathers on, 
ready for use.*’ 




THE STORY OF BABY S PILLOW. 


This is the Farmer’s Wife, 
plucking with care 

All of the feathers the Geese 
can well spare. 

This is the Pillow the Mer- 
chant displayed: 

“Yes, of the finest Goose- 
feathers ’tis made.” 

This is the Mother who put on 
its case, 

Laid the wee Pillow away in 
its place. 

This is the Crib with its fur- 
nishings white. 

This the dear Baby who bids 



THE SrUl’iHSE. 


ELSA’S DOLLY. 


ELSA’S DOLLY. 


“What is it, my darling? Why do you 
cry ? I thought you were playing tag so 
happily with Nero,” called little Elsa’s 
mother, putting her head out of the 
window. 

On the lawn stood a little girl with her 
apron up to her eyes, crying as if her heart 
would break. Lrom one hand hung the 
limp body of a doll, while a big romping 
dog stood by, wagging his tail and looking 
as if eager to have the fun begin again. 

But Nero’s fun had caused great grief 
to Elsa, and when she heard her mother’s 
voice she sobbed out, “Nero has -bitten 
Julie; bitten her head dreadfully!” 

“Julie’s head, my precious? O, Nero! 
for shame ! But, dearie, he didn’t mean 
to do any harm. Dogs don’t understand 
about dollies. Bring Julie in and let me see her.” 

So Elsa went into the house, while Nero strayed off to the 
kitchen door and laid himself down in the sun. 

Ah! what a beauty poor Julie had been, with her beautiful 
wax head crowned with golden curls ! And her eyes, that 
could open and shut! Elsa used to put her to. sleep and 



ELSA’S DOLLY. 


wake her again many times a day, just for the pleasure of 
seeing the sweet blue eyes close and then open again. Could 
it be that all this happiness was at an end ? But what a 
delightful being a mother is ! Elsa’s mother first washed 
Julie nicely; then her lips and cheeks and eyebrows had a 
touch of paint, so that the face looked as smiling and rosy 
as before; and next, the yellow hair was brushed and curled; 
last of all, the head was fastened on ; and there was Julie as 
fresh and sweet as ever. 

When Elsa took her, Julie’s eyes turned upward with a 
soft glance and Elsa cried : 

“O, mamma! She is well again! She has opened her 
eyes ! Now I must put her to sleep. What a good mamma 
vou are ! 

“But I will never let Nero play with you again, poor 
little Julie ! He is a fine old fellow to play with little girls ; 
but he is too rough for dollies, isn’t he ? ” 



THE ENDLESS STORY. 



THE ENDLESS STORY. 

A tiny drop of water 
Within the ocean lay ; 

A coaxing sunbeam caught her 
And bore her far away ; 

Up, up — and higher still — they go 
With gentle motion soft and slow. 

A little cloud lay sleeping 
Upon the azure sky; 

But soon she fell a-weeping 
As cold the wind rushed by, 

And cried and cried herself away — 

It was a very rainy day ! 

The little raindrops sinking 

Ran trickling through the ground. 
And set the rootlets drinking 
In all the country round; 

But some with laughing murmur said, 
“ We’ll farther go;” and on they sped. 


t 


THE ENDLESS STORY. 


A little spring came dripping 
The moss and ferns among, 

A silver rill went tripping 
And singing sweet along, 

And calling others to its side, 
Until it rolled — a river’s tide! 

And with the ocean blending 
At last its waters run. 

“ Then is the story ending?” 

Why, no! ’tis just begun — 
For in the ocean as before, 

The drop of water lay once more. 



THE EMPTY BIRD-HOUSE. 


THE EMPTY BIRD-HOUSE 


I. — The Little Boy Wonders. 


“ I wonder why the birds won’t 
come 

And live in their nice little home. 
’Twas really built for them, I 
know — 

You know, mamma, you told me 
so — 

It’s snug and pretty as can be ; 

And why they don’t come, I can’t 
see. 

“ They know we haven’t any cat. 

So they can’t be afraid of that ; 
And nobody would harm them here, 

For we all love the birdies dear — 

It’s surely safe as safe can be; 

And why they don’t come, I can’t see. 

" What feasts of crumbs I’d often give 
If they would but come here to live. 

And water always fresh and clear 
Is in the lovely lake so near ; 

Just what they like is here, you see — 

Whatever can the trouble be ?” 



“why don’t the bikdies come, mamma?*’ 


THE EMPTY BIRD-HOUSE. 


IL — The Little Bird Ex'plaxns. 

“O! such a pretty house, I know! 

My mate and I would love to go 
And live in it the whole year long 
And pay the rent with sweetest song ; 
It’s snug and pretty as can be ; 

BUT — it’s too near the nursery! 



‘‘Why, every morning, noon and night 
The noise would drive us crazy quite. 

So empty must the bird-house stand, 
For not a bird in all the land 
Would ever come in it to stay 
While there’s such crying every day. 

“It isn’t both the little boys. 

But only 07 ie makes such a noise. 
They say he’s five years old and 
more — 

BUT — it’s too near THE NURSERY ! ” . _ . . 

But if you chanced to hear him roar 
Whenever he is washed each day, 

‘ A big, big baby ’ you would say. 


“ And crying at his bath ! A bird 
Thinks that of all things most absurd. 
Why! any birdie, children dear. 
Would be ashamed to shed a tear — 


THE EMPTY BIRD-HOUSE. 


And SO we couldn’t bear, you see, 

To live so near this nursery. 

We wouldn’t mind the happy noise 
Of fifty little girls and boys — 

We love to hear them laugh and play ; 
But naughty screams drive us away. 

So if you wish to win the birds 
Keep back the angry cries and words. 

“And we will surely find it out 
As we go flying all about. 

And gladly will we flutter near 
When only pleasant sounds we hear. 
And then some day perhaps you’ll see 
The bird-house will not empty be.” 



A WISE FELLOW. 


A WISE 



DOES SHE LIKE BUTTER? 


FELLOW. 

Buttercup yellow, 

You’re a gay fellow ! 

Does she like butter? You 
must now show. 

Don’t make a blunder ! 

I’ll hold you under — 
Right underneath her chin. 
There you are — so! 

Yes, it is yellow ! 

O, you wise fellow! 

She does like butter — but how 
did you know ? 




BABY WAXl’S TO PLAY 





A LITTLE BOY’S JOKE. 


A LITTLE BOY’S JOKE. 



A hungry old spider, her web all complete, 
Was waiting one morning for something to 
eat. 

Far back in the corner, so cunning and sly. 

She hid herself thinking, “A bug or a fly. 

Or some other insect will soon pass this way, 
ril have him for dinner — I’m hungry to-day.” 


So there sat the spider, with sharp appetite, 
Far back in the corner, away out of sight. 
Not very long after she felt the web shake. 
And went in a hurry, her dinner to take. 

A big fellow, surely. I’ll have a great feast. 
He’ll do for a dinner and breakfast at least.” 


The hungry old spider, so cruel and sly, 

Now reached the web center— but what did she spy? 
No poor little insect is caught in her snare, 

’Twas only a rose she found hanging there. 

And just at that minute a little boy spoke: — 

“Aha! you old spider! I’ve played you a joke! ” 

















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